You're Not Alone
by By the Sounding Sea
Summary: One of Georgia and Shaun's many lengthy after-death conversations on the anniversary of Georgia's death. It's pretty good, in my completely nonbiased opinion.


_Good morning, sunshine._

I sat up and rolled out of bed. "Morning, George."

_Did you sleep alright?_

"How come you never asked me that when you were alive?"

_Cranky, are we? I guess not very well._

"George, I haven't slept well since I had to blow your brains out."

_Ugh, don't remind me_, George said. _I feel really bad about that, by the way. Thanks for doing it, though._

I chuckled dryly. "Don't think anyone's ever thanked someone for shooting them."

_Could be because most people can't talk to that person after they've shot them_, said George._ Seriously, though, thank you. I'm not sure if I've said that yet. You loved me enough to end it, to make sure I'd never hurt anyone, including you. Well, more than I already had, anyway. Has there ever been a luckier girl?_

"Mind if I make a correction?" I said. "I love you enough to end it, present tense. I still love you."

_Of course you do. And I love you, too. Alive or dead, that'll never change._

"'Course it won't. You and me, George. Always." George didn't respond. I sighed. "Hey, George?"

_Yeah?_

"I miss you."

_I know you do. I miss being with you. I mean, actually being with you. Like, alive. I miss you, I miss my job, I miss Buffy, I miss the pursuit of the truth. But I miss you more than anything._

"I'm surprised."

_About what?_

"You haven't seen Buffy in the newsroom in the sky?"

_Oh, please, Shaun_, George said. _There's no "newsroom in the sky." I'm staying with you. And Buffy's probably with Chuck, writing some sappy, over the top poetry about her death. It's one thing to write about someone else's death, but _your_ death? I'm sure wherever she is, she's delighted._

"Mind if I join you?" I asked.

_ Shaun Phillip Mason, don't you _dare_ kill yourself! _George yelled. _Don't even talk like that! You think I want to be an only child? Besides, you're not done yet._

"What do you mean?"

_ You still have to find the bastards who ordered Tate to kill me. Avenge my death._

"Any ideas about how I should do that?"

_Not one. But I'm going to help you._

"George, you live inside my head. What can you do?"

_Advise you. Never underestimate the power of the dead._

"You were always the smart one; I was always the pretty one."

_Ha, ha._

Someone knocked on the door. I went to answer it.

_Who's that? _George asked. _Did you invite someone over? A hooker, perhaps? Please don't. Remember that I live inside you now, and I do _not_ want to see my brother having sex with a prostitute._

"George, please," I said. "I'm not gonna call a prostitute."

_Thank you, God._

I opened the door. It was Becks.

"Who were you talking to, Shaun?" she asked.

"What?"

"I heard voices; who were you talking to?"

"Uh…no one. You must be hearing things."

_In reality, you're the one hearing things_, George said. _And by the way, I get a little offended when you keep denying my existence._

"George, please," I muttered.

"Who are you talking to?" Becks demanded. "I saw your lips move; I heard your voice."

I sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "What do you want, Becks?"

"Well, uh…I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Why would I not be okay?"

"Well, you know…It's the anniversary of Georgia's death. I figured…you know."

I went cold. Shit. How could I forget? _Becks_ remembered the day I shot my sister in the spinal column, and I don't?

"Um…Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

Becks analyzed me. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Super. Top of the world."

"You gonna visit her grave?" Becks asked. "Alaric and Dave and I are going."

"Uh…Actually, yeah, I think I might. Maybe."

"You want to come with us?"

"No. If I were to go, it'd have to be alone."

Becks nodded. "Okay. I understand. Well, I'll leave you alone. If you change your mind, we're going to leave in an hour."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna change my mind. I appreciate for the offer, though."

"Sure. I guess I'll see you later, Shaun."

"Bye, Becks." Becks turned around and walked away; I shut the door.

_Mmm…There it is_, George said.

"I can't believe I forgot," I said. "I'm sorry, George. Why didn't you mention it?"

_I didn't think you'd want to remember. I considered it a blessing in disguise._

"Just wanted to make sure _you_ remembered."

_Shaun, maybe you can forget the day I died, but I can't. Are you going to visit my grave?_

"Do you want me to?"

_ Up to you._

"I might. Maybe at noon. Does that work for you?"

_What, you think I have a hot date with a guy a met at a Starbucks? _George said sarcastically. _I've got nothing but time, Shaun. And by the way, it's not like I have much of a choice. I live inside your head, remember? I have to go where you go, unless you want to leave your head in the closet for safekeeping._

"Alright, then," I said. "I guess I'll change."

_Of course._

I went back into my bedroom and tossed on jeans, a T-shirt, and old cowboy boots George gave me for my birthday, like, ten years ago. Surprisingly, they still fit. I grabbed George's .40 from the dresser and put it in the holster on my belt.

_I love those boots_, George said. I could tell she was smiling. _And the gun. Jeez, I miss that gun._

"No, see, if _I _were dead, _I'd_ be the one missing a gun."

_Mmm-hmm. Hey, mind getting me a Coke?_

George and I continued to converse, and at noon, I drove to the cemetery in Berkeley where I buried her. I quickly found her headstone. I crouched down and traced the engraving with my finger.

_Georgia Carolyn Mason_

_2017—2039_

_Alive or dead, the truth won't rest. Rise up while you can._

I decided what to put on it, but Georgia wrote that last sentence. It was the last thing she ever wrote. She wrote it about a minute before I shot her.

_Well…I like the gravestone_, George said. She sounded…confused. Uncertain.

"You okay, George?" I asked.

_Sure. I mean, shouldn't I be the one asking you that? It's just…It's weird, you know?_

"Yeah, George. I know."

_I mean, we both were so _sure_ that you were going to die first. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're alive, and I'm sorry that _you_ had to bury_ me_. That's not the way it was supposed to happen._

"At least you didn't have to bury me," I said. "And yeah, I guess there's been some sort of error."

_Hey, Shaun?_

"Yeah?"

_You're crying._

I reached up and touched my cheeks. Sure enough, they were wet. "Shit. When did that happen?"

_I…I'm so sorry, Shaun._

"For what?" I asked. "After all, you're the one who's dead. At least I'm still breathing."

_I feel horrible. Before I…well, you know. I used to think about what life would be like when you finally screwed up and I'd have to bury you. And honestly, I don't know how long I would have stayed alive without you. That's the part you don't know, Shaun. I didn't intend to be an only child for long._

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_I'm not sure._

"You're always sure."

_Not this time._

"Oh, come on, George," I said. "Are you saying that you would have killed yourself when I died?"

_I don't _know_ what I would have done when you died! I just don't think I'd be able to stay alive without you. Actually, I'm impressed._

"By what?"

_ How well you're handling my death. How well you're handling being alone._

I chuckled humorlessly. "Georgia, I talk to my dead sister who lives in my head all the damn time. You think that shows I'm handling your death well?"

_Could be worse, couldn't it? I mean, you could have _actually_ gone legitimately crazy._

"Yeah. I'm a lucky, lucky guy."

"Excuse me, sir?" a voice said from behind me. I turned around. A red-haired woman stood before me. "Are you alright?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh…Yeah."

"You're…You're crying. And I thought I heard you talking."

"Yeah. That's 'cause I was."

_Don't be so rude_, George chided.

"Whatever, George."

"I'm sorry?" the woman said.

"Nothing."

"I'm Nina," she said.

"Shaun."

"I assume you're visiting someone?"

I nodded. "Yeah. My sister."

"My condolences."

"Yeah. And you?"

"Just my grandfather," Nina said. "We weren't close, but I promised my mother I'd visit him. What was your sister's name?"

_Betcha ten dollars she'll recognize our names._

"Georgia."

"Wait. Georgia and Shaun. As in, Georgia and Shaun _Mason_?"

"Yeah."

"I read your sister's blog every day," Nina said. "Terrible, how she died."

"Yeah."

"You two were very close, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Do you visit her quite often?"

"No. Today's the…the anniversary of her death."

"I'm very sorry."

"Yeah."

"Would you like someone to pray with you?"

_That's a strange question_, said George. _This Nina character is messed up._

"No arguments on this end," I muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Nina said.

"Uh, nothing. And no, thank you. Georgia and I are atheists. As George used to say, it's hard to be anything else in a world where zombies can attack your elementary school talent show."

Nina smiled. "I can understand that."

_Ask her if she's single._

"What?" I muttered under my breath.

_Hey, now that I'm gone, you should find a girl._

"George wants to know…I mean, _I'd_ like to know…Are you single?"

"Currently, yes."

_Now ask her how old she is._

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

_Same age I was. And you'll be twenty-three in a few weeks. Hmm, so would I._

"Don't remind me, George."

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Are you going to ask me for my number?" Nina asked.

_Say yes._

"Uh…maybe?" I said uncertainly.

_Oh, come _on, George said. _Step up._

"Easy for you to say. You never had a boyfriend in your life and you never have to."

"I'm sorry?"

"Uh, nothing."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely. I'm kind of sick of people asking me that."

_Shaun…_

"I know, George."

"Who _are _you talking to?" Nina asked.

_You think you can tell her? _George asked. _I mean, you've already broken your "No talking to Georgia in front of strangers" rule. I don't see why not._

I shrugged. "Georgia."

"Does Georgia…talk back?" Nina asked skeptically.

_So what if I do?_

"So what if she does?"

"Hey, whatever," Nina said. "We all have our own methods of coping. If yours includes talking to your sister from beyond the grave, I can understand that."

_Seriously?_

"Seriously?" I echoed Georgia's thought, minus the extreme tone of shock.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Huh."

"What?"

"Well, everyone else thinks I'm crazy."

"Oh, God. If I had a nickel for every time I heard _that_," Nina said. I smiled.

_ I think I might like this girl._

"You don't like anybody."

_Hey, a girl can change._

"Not when they're dead."

_Thanks for pointing out the depressing and blatantly obvious._

"Sorry."

"I'm assuming you're not talking to me?"

"Uh, yeah, no, sorry," I said. "Talkin' to George."

"Do you talk to her a lot?"

_Only every second._

"Yeah, we talk a lot."

"Can I see her grave?"

"Sure." I moved out of the way so Nina could read George's headstone.

"God, she was only twenty-two," she said. "'Alive or dead, the truth won't rest. Rise up while you can.' That sounds familiar."

"Yeah. It was one of the last things George wrote."

"Right, I remember. Her final report."

"Yeah. Few minutes later, and I was alone."

_You're not alone_, George said. _I'm always here._

I smiled a little. "Thanks, George."

Nina smiled, too. "Well, I'm going to leave you alone with your sister. But here's my number." She took out a pen and notepad and quickly scrawled down some numbers, then handed it to me. "You can call me whenever. You know, if you want to."

I tucked the paper in the front left pocket of my jeans. "Thanks, Nina."

"Sure. I'll see you later." Nina turned around and left me alone. I sat down on the stone bench next to George's grave with a sigh.

_Hey, good for you, brother dear_, George said.

"Seems distasteful," I said. "Getting a girl's number at your grave."

_Does this mean I have to be your girl consultant now?_

"Guess it's a good thing you live inside my head." A moment later, someone's hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around and was shocked at what I saw.

"Mahir?" I asked. "Did you come here all the way from England?"

"Well, I didn't come here all the way from Santa Cruz," Mahir said with his thick, British accent.

_Tell Mahir I say hi. And that I miss him_, George said.

"Love to, George, but he'll think I'm crazy," I muttered.

_Mmm, I'm not so sure. I think that if anyone were to understand why you'd be talking to your dead sister, it'd be Mahir. In fact, he might be jealous that I wasn't talking to _him_._

"You think so?"

_Yeah. I do._

"Shaun?" Mahir said. "Who are you talking to?"

"George."

Mahir nodded. "I understand."

_Told you._

"Don't be smug." I turned back to Mahir. "She says hi, by the way."

_And I miss him._

"And she wants me to tell you that she misses you."

_Thanks._

"Sure, George."

"Tell her that I miss her, too," Mahir said. "I really do."

"No need," I said. "Georgia hears everything I hear, sees everything I see. Unfortunately, people can't hear her, which makes them think I'm crazy."

"When in reality, you're just at the _edge_ of insanity," Mahir commented.

"Precisely. So, did you come here all the way from England just to visit George's grave?"

"Well, she was my best friend, and it's the anniversary of her death," Mahir said simply. "And besides, my wife's getting on my nerves." He sat down next to me.

"I told you you shouldn't have married that woman."

"Yes, well, too late now." We sat in silence for a moment, then I spoke.

"So you really don't think I'm crazy?"

Mahir shook his head. "Not at all."

"Why not? Everyone else does. Dave, Alaric, Becks, even Maggie. They all think I'm crazy. They just don't talk about it. Not around me, anyway. Wise decision, seeing I would punch them if they did."

"Shaun…You and Georgia were so close. In my eyes, it seems crazy if you _weren't_ doing _anything_ you _possibly_ could to hang onto her. And if that means talking to your dead sister that one one else can hear…well, I don't see anything wrong with that."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mahir."

_He's willing to see reason. I don't think you're crazy, either._

"Well, of course _you_ don't think I'm crazy," I said to George.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." We sat in silence again for a few minutes.

"So really," Mahir finally said, "how are you doing?"

I sighed. "Hmm. How am I doing? Well, Mahir, that's an interesting question. My sister, the only person in the world I really cared about, is dead. Georgia's dead. So how am I doing? Well…I ain't great. I feel alone half the time even though I know Georgia is always with me. I haven't slept for more than five hours since she died, and that's a really, _really_ good night. I'm living in a world full of zombies. Everyone is constantly harassing me about becoming an Irwin again. But after George, I just lose the taste for it. And I…I miss her, Mahir. I miss her _so much_. We were both so sure that I was going to die first, so I never even bothered imagining a world without Georgia. Now I'm living in what is truly a nightmare. Life without Georgia is a nightmare. It almost isn't worth living."

_Shaun, don't say that_, Georgia pleaded desperately. _Please, _please_ don't say that._

"Don't say such things, Shaun," Mahir said. "Give it time. You'll be okay."

I shook my head, realizing that I was now crying again. God, I hate crying. Never used to cry before George died. "That's the thing, Mahir. I'm not sure I will be. I know I'll never be able to get past what happened a year ago today. It's just not possible. We were too close, cared about each other too much, loved each other too much. It's just not possible, Mahir. I miss George."

Now, when I really, really wanted to hear what George had to say, she stayed silent.

"I am so sorry, Shaun. I can't even imagine—"

"No, you can't." I smiled without a trace of humor.

"Why are you smiling?"

"It's just right now I really want to hear from George, and she decides not to talk."

"Right."

"Come on, George. Talk to me," I begged.

_The only problem is, for once, I don't know what to say._

I sighed with relief. "Well, at least you spoke."

_All I can say is I love you. And I'm sorry._

"What the hell for?"

_ For causing you so much pain._

"Oh, George, you didn't cause me pain," I said. "Your death did. And that was Tate's fault."

_But you just seem so…broken, Shaun. It's really hard for me to watch, so I can't imagine how much you're suffering._

"Well, George, we were always pretty dependent on each other's company, weren't we?"

_I miss you, too, Shaun._

"I know."

_Good._

"Uh, Shaun?" Mahir said, snapping me back to reality. "Are you talking to Georgia?"

I nodded. "Yeah. And shit, I'm crying again, aren't I?"

"Just a little."

_Please don't cry, Shaun_, Georgia pleaded. _Look, if talking to me is just making it worse…_

"George, please, don't you _dare_ stop talking to me!" I exclaimed. "Please, _please_ keep talking."

_Okay, okay, I will. I'm sorry._

"And stop apologizing."

_Fine. Do me a favor?_

"Sure."

_Tell Mahir that I think he's doing a great job as my replacement._

"George, please don't call him your replacement. It just reminds me that you're gone."

_And the fact that you're talking to me in the form of a voice inside your head doesn't remind you?_

"Good point. But still."

_Please tell him. I would if I could, but I can't._

"George wants me to tell you that she thinks you're doing a good job as her…"

_Just say it, Shaun._

"As her replacement."

_Was that so hard?_

"Well…Tell Georgia that I appreciate her approval," Mahir said.

_He understands, but he's…I don't think he totally knows how to feel about the whole you talking to dead people thing._

"Yeah, but you're not just a 'dead person,' Georgia. You're my sister."

_Well, no shit, Sherlock, and you're my brother. Did you think that was going to change after I died? You and me. Always. Remember?_

"Yeah, I know, George."

_That's what you said to me the night I died_, George said. _God, I was so scared, Shaun. You have no idea how terrified I was. And I just wanted to hug you and kiss you goodbye, but I couldn't. You know what I could do for the first time since I was five?_

"What?"

_I could cry. Isn't that weird? It was so…unfamiliar. And even more than that, I took off my sunglasses and guess what?_

"What?"

_ The light didn't hurt. Can you believe that?_

"Do your eyes hurt now?"

_No. It's amazing, Shaun. For the first time since I was five, the light doesn't hurt. That's the _only _good part in this. I guess the retinal KA went away._

"I didn't think it ever went away."

_Well, yeah, while you're alive. But I'm dead, therefore it can go away._

"Don't remind me that you're dead."

Mahir cleared his throat. "Uh, Shaun?"

I looked at him. "Sorry."

"No worries," Mahir said. I stood up.

_Whoa, where are we going? _George asked.

"I'm gonna go home, Mahir," I said. "But as long as you're in town, stop by any time."

"Alright," Mahir said. "I will."

"George, anything you want to say to Mahir?"

_Just tell him that I miss him again, please. 'Cause I do._

"She wants me to tell you that she really misses you."

Mahir nodded. "I miss you, too, Georgia."

_Tell him I'm sorry._

"Why?" I asked.

"Why do I miss Georgia?" Mahir said, puzzled.

"No, no, I'm talking to George," I clarified.

_Because of everything I put him through. I made him an international fugitive, Shaun. If I could take it all back…_

"You'd do the same thing, Georgia," I said. "You'd do the same damn thing."

_Well, I wouldn't do _everything _the same. Like, I'd be a lot more careful when we were running for the van, now that I know…well, what I know. Hell, I might've even gone home when Buffy asked us to._

"No, you wouldn't have. You might be more careful during the run, but you wouldn't go home. You're a junkie, George."

George sighed. _Yeah. I know._

"George says she's sorry," I said to Mahir.

"Why?" Mahir asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno. You'd have to ask George. Unfortunately, she's not able to talk to you right now. Maybe if you leave a message, she'll get back to you." I sighed. "Bye, Mahir."

"Bye, Shaun."

I turned around and walked away.

Life is a hell of a thing to happen to a person. Days go by, and we carry on like it's easy. But it's not. It's anything _but_. I love my sister more than anything in the whole world, and that hasn't changed just because she's not actually _in _this world anymore.

I have never been so confused in my life. I don't know anything anymore. I'm not sure of anything.

I am truly at the edge of insanity. Sure, I'm crazy now, talking to my dead sister all the time, but I'm talking about true psychosis. I mean, I am _this close_. Ten bucks says that by this time next year, I'll be hanging tin foil on my windows. Worst case scenario, I'm living in a padded room wrapped cozy and warm in a straight jacket. Come on, it's not out of the realm of possibility.

I love my sister more than anything. And I would give anything, everything, if I could have her back with me.

Everyone expects me to move on. Everyone wants me to just forget about Georgia. Everyone wants me back out in the field. And I just can't believe that people can't understand why I'm perfectly okay with taking over my sister's desk job. After you blow your sister's brains out, things are just never the same.

I carry on like it's easy.

But in reality…

I'm broken.


End file.
